a gypsypunk kind of night
by wordbends
Summary: "Abracadabra, asshole." — AU; Sesshomaru/Kagura.


**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
><strong>dedication<strong>: to Emily.  
><strong>notes<strong>: one of my oldest OTPs.

**title**: a gypsypunk kind of night  
><strong>summary<strong>: "Abracadabra, asshole." — AU; Sesshomaru/Kagura.

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The light from the chandelier was gold. It glinted off the edge of Kagura's glass, the wine inside turned ruby red as her eyes and sloshing against the side of the crystal. She ran her finger along the rim absently as she watched the couples move mechanically across the ballroom floor.

There was something delightfully despicable about it. The opulence of the room made her want to retch; they all stank of money, blood and otherwise. Celebutantes and their coked-up sugar-daddies ruled this world, doing lines of blow off the marble counters in the bathroom.

Not that she was any different. Kagura was a politician's daughter, and the man was _slimy_. But slime knew slime, and she didn't have to look for him to know that her father was smoozing his way into another term in office. Or, more likely, into that girl with the itty-bitty dress across the room's panties.

(Which, for the record, was disgusting. Kagura had gone to _school_ with that girl.)

She shook her head to herself. Idiots. All of them, idiots.

She tipped her head back, and downed the rest of the wine. The only way she was getting through this night with her sanity intact was sloshed out of her mind—so really, not getting through the night at all. Her dress whispered along the ground, and she went in search for more.

Kagura kept her eyes trained on the ground, careful not to stumble in five-inch heels and even more careful to avoid the lingering glances that dusted along her bare shoulder blades. She'd write herself out of the history books, but first she had to escape her father's clutches.

(Daddy's money would get her far, but it was still _Daddy's money_, and Kagura wanted nothing to do with him.)

The bar flowed with Dom Pérignon. Kagura made her way towards it, cutting delicate arcs through the crowd as she shoved people out of her way. She'd never been one for convention, and these people had all the charm of a salt cracker dipped in milk.

She wrinkled her nose, grabbed a flute of the bubbly liquid and downed it in a truly unladylike fashion. Her knees knocked together beneath the thin veneer of her dress, and with shaking fingers, she grabbed another to float off towards a balcony or maybe the orchestra.

At this point, Kagura was beyond caring. It was all pointless, all of it; Daddy's little girl dancing under strobe lights like a micro slut and _oops_, that was a shutterbug, and then her drunken shenanigans were all over the morning paper again ( and the conversation went like "What the _hell_, New York Times society page, don't you have something better to talk about than my inability to keep my legs closed?") and suddenly there were bruises on her wrists.

Wouldn't be the first time.

(Kagome had always told her that her habits were going to be the death of her. Oh well.)

She sipped her champagne as the girls on the floor twirled and twirled, lost on the exhalation of smoke and sin. She didn't even glance towards him when he stopped at her side. She didn't have to.

"What do you want?" Kagura asked. Champagne bubbles popped in her nose and she found herself wanting to giggle hysterically; losing it would be so easy.

"Shouldn't you be at home, Kagura?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be at home, Sesshomaru?" she mimicked. "Don't you have _school_ in the morning, like all the good little kids?"

His lips curled up in a sneer. The rush of endorphins to Kagura's brain was intoxicating. Even if everyone at this party was faker than Paris Hilton's nose, at least he'd be good for a laugh. Maybe she'd even come away from this ball without feeling sick with herself but—well, probably not.

"Unlike _some_ people," he said, "I have already finished my term."

"Awww," Kagura mocked. "You can read! What a surprise. Must be like magic to someone like you, boring as you are. My Little Pony, much?"

"Kagura," he warned, golden eyes flashing red.

Kagura threw her head back and laughed bitterly. She downed the rest of her champagne, and unceremoniously shoved the glass into his empty hands, nails coloured crimson and vibrant against his skin for the barest of seconds.

"Gotta go," she smirked. "Things to do, places to go—"

_Lives to ruin_ was left unsaid.

"Abracadabra, asshole," Kagura said, and she flipped him off as she disappeared.

_fin_.


End file.
